


A Body  Uncommanded

by xwoman



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Ableism, American History, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon Disabled Character, Charles in a Wheelchair, Depression, Disabled Character, Erik Has Feelings, Fix-It, Heavy Angst, Historical References, M/M, Post Beach Divorce, Post X-Men: First Class, Post-Cuba
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2018-10-22
Packaged: 2019-08-06 02:08:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16379375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xwoman/pseuds/xwoman
Summary: “I’ve missed you too Erik, it’s been killing me, ” Charles' voice broke and then he cried, “killing me,” he said in a still smaller voice, “you don’t get to say you're sorry.”





	A Body  Uncommanded

All thoughts felt different and Erik’s felt like iron. A familiar voice that settled quietly at the back of his head. And it filled his mind now, resting at the edge, cold and smooth. With Erik’s voice came all the noise they’d made together, all the love they’d made together, all the anger. All this overwhelmed Charles in his too big bed and it grew closer, a brain without a body, floating out in that psychic space that connected them both, that connected everything. 

 

He’d need to meet Erik but that meant getting himself out of bed. Quickly, he planted his hands on his mattress and hauled himself upright. His legs followed apprehensively. A pain in the middle of his back made him gasp before it vanished, it was his T12 and L1, broken where they met. His doctor said he’d never walk again. Charles tossed his blanket aside, there were those two legs, as still as the day he had been paralyzed. They still looked like his legs, and they were. They just didn’t work. Charles still had nightmares about the beach. In them he imagines is spinal cord unraveling like string, faster than he can gather it. 

 

Charles huffed, now upright, as he pulled each leg closer to the edge of his bed. Dragging his left leg with his hand under his knee and his right leg by his pant he managed to force both legs over the edge of his bed. 

 

Erik's voice grew closer still, coming up the drive now. With his lower body manhandled into the right position, he used the muscles just above his level of injury to assist in transferring into his wheelchair. After an awkward, unfamiliar transfer, he dragged his legs onto his footrests. It’s slow going because he’s not yet used a body that won’t be commanded. 

 

His doctor said he’d never walk again. 

 

Charles never thought he’d be paralyzed. Not because he thought that he was young and invincible, but just because it had never crossed his mind.

 

Shit happens.  

 

Suddenly, sitting in his unlit room, feet crooked on their rests, one knee resting against the other, Charles felt a cold pressure at the back of his head. The sensation grew, drowning him slowly like high tide. Goosebumps rose up on his skin.

 

Erik had reached the mansion. 

 

Then a quick tapping, a latch undone on its own, and clumsily Erik, nearly tripping over the drapes, entered his bedroom. 

 

Charles pushed his chair backward, away from his bed, and then forward to Erik, who was soaking the floor. 

 

But instead of confusion or pity or sadness or questions like how did it happen or does your cock still work, Erik just said, “I missed you.” He ran his hands through his wetted hair, which had grown slightly long. His wet shirt clung to him and Charles, for all he was worth, couldn’t look away. 

 

All Charles managed was, “God, I’ve missed you too.”

 

Erik, soaked from head to toe, took every bit of Charles in. His eyes moved over Charles’ body, even the parts which, despite his hatred of ableism, Charles was helplessly self-conscious of. 

 

A thought lingered in the air, smelling of used matches and liquor,  _ I’m sorry.  _

 

What Erik said instead was, “It’s just like that night,” Erik stepped forward and Charles pushed his chair backward.

 

Now it was Charles’ turn, “Except it isn’t.”  _ I’m not. _

 

“Nonsense.”

 

“I’m paralyzed, Erik.”

 

“I know that much Charles, I’ve known for some time now. But that doesn't change how I feel about you.”

 

“Well for fuck’s sake, why have you stayed away?”

 

Erik’s shoulders seemed to hang slightly lower, his body slightly colder, his frame slightly thinner, “It wasn’t safe for me to come back yet.”

 

Charles felt a hot, bitter anger fill his chest, “It wasn’t safe?” Charles scoffed. 

 

“I know. I’m sorry.” Erik seemed empty of the vigor he was usually filled with.

 

“I’ve missed you, Erik, it’s been killing me, ” Charles' voice broke and then he cried, “killing me,” he said in a still smaller voice, “you don’t get to say you’re  sorry.”

 

Erik’s exhausted form buckled at the knees and came to rest on the floor by Charles' feet, by Charles’ legs, crooked the way he sat. Erik gripped Charles’ ankle, knowing he couldn’t feel his hand. Erik rested his head on Charles' knee. He exhaled.

 

The scent of salt and sand and heat,  _ I’ve missed you. I love you.  _

 

Erik lifted his face to peer up at Charles, who still had tears forming in his eyes, running down his cheeks. 

 

_ Kiss me,  _ the scent of skin and teeth and bathwater, and the texture of porcelain and bed frames and sheets and the smell of rain. Just like the rain outside right now. Just the rain he’d seen from his hospital bed. Just like the rain on the day he finally came home. Just like the rain the first time they’d ever met.

 

Erik moved very slowly at first, knees unfolding into long legs. 

 

Charles sniffled and Erik kissed him.

 

Charles gripped Erik’s wet shirt. 

 

They continued to kiss. It was sloppy and Charles was crying. 

 

Erik stood, hands gripping the armrests of Charles’ chair. 

 

“Get me out of these wet clothes,” Erik muttered, more quickly than he had intended. 

 

Charles did. He peeled Erik’s black shirt from his body to reveal a lean, toned frame. The shirt came off in a smooth motion, over Erik’s head, messing his hair, getting Charles wet. He admired Erik, who leaned back down and slowly, too slowly, said, “I want to see you.”

 

Charles nearly melted, moving his chair backward. Further backward. Until he met the bed. Erik took the wheels of his chair, one in each hand, and eased into them, until he had Charles lent back. Then Erik moved on top of him and took the shirt from his frame. Erik kissed him from his chest to his neck. If Charles could get hard he would’ve. 

 

Then slowly, with more finesse than Charles knew Erik to have, Erik worked Charles pants from his legs. He was gentle with Charles. Not because Charles was paralyzed, but because he loved him. 

 

Charles took notice though. And as if Erik knew, he spent little time below his injury. His thin hands returning from the void. 

 

“Charles,” he whispered, “You're beautiful.”

 

Charles blushed as thoroughly as his body would allow, “Help me to the bed.”

 

Erik did. And between the two of them, the room filled with thoughts and all the metal of the bed quivered as it was commanded. Erik knew how to touch Charles and Charles knew, of course, he knew, how to please Erik. And for all the thoughts in the room, not a thought was of pity. Erik was sorry of course but sorrow wouldn’t mend the body. 

 

With Charles’ shoulder in his mouth, their bodies both alight, Erik came onto Charles’ stomach.

 

A long, hot silence settled and the bed quieted and thoughts hung in the air and the big old house was silent. 

 

Charles wiped more tears from his face and Erik breathed into his neck. 

 

“There was no pity,” Charles whispered, “I expected pity.”

 

“Why would I pity you? Because you’re paralyzed?”

 

Charles shrugged, his lips quivered, “I’ve felt so...much pity...”

 

Erik pulled him close and kissed his head, “You’ve not changed. Just your body. That’s never stopped anyone before. Certainly not the great Charles Xavier.”

 

“I’m not so great as you think me to be.”

 

Erik sat up to help Charles with his legs, as tangled as they’d been with is own, they wouldn’t reposition themselves. Charles watched as Erik’s hands lingered just longer than they needed to. He saw the way Erik’s hands quivered. He watched Erik’s hands touch parts of his body he couldn’t feel. 

 

“Did you know FDR was paralyzed, Charles?”

A pause, “I didn’t know that,” Charles said. 

Erik nodded slowly, extending Charles’ leg until it was straight, no one else would touch his body the way he allowed Erik to, “I knew because he fought against Hitler, a man who would’ve had him killed for being who he was.”

 

“He was the President,” Charles said.

 

Erik made eye contact, “I know. He led an entire nation.”

 

Erik lay back down, throwing a leg back over Charles’ own. Silence snuck in around them like a fog settling. The rain beat on the windows. The wind blew down the drive. Erik kissed him slowly, “How fitting,” he spoke quietly, “that you should lead our mutant brothers and sisters.”

 

Erik would be gone by morning but the taste of metal would linger in his mouth like something he wasn’t ever supposed to have. 

  
  
  
  



End file.
